


Ladybug Genius

by Ragman_Jack



Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic), Miraculous Ladybug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 10:30:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20274466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragman_Jack/pseuds/Ragman_Jack
Summary: When Chloe accuses Marinette of stealing her bracelet, Marinette has her Spark breakthrough. While her father is excited to have another Spark in the family, being a Spark in Paris carries its own set of obligations, not all of them conductive to the life of a superhero.But when a visiting dignitary falls ill and Collette Voltaire is accused of assassination, she sends Ladybug and Chat Noir to the only place in Europe where the cure may be found.Castle Heterodyne.





	Ladybug Genius

As both Ladybug and Girl Genius are ongoing series, elements of this fic were made up for story purposes and are not canonical. Also, I’m drawing on both the comics and the novelizations for GG.

————————————

_She was flying._

_Below her, the universe was laid out like a sewing pattern. She could see how everything was bound together, but with a cut here, a seam there, and a needle just so, she could change the pattern, she could do anything. _

_Anything at all._

_Raw triumph filled her. First as a singe spark, then a full blown blazing fire of pure euphoria as she reached out and took the universe into her hands._

_Nothing! Nothing was impossible!_

_She threw back her he_ad and laughed. She laughed until she hurt, and the pattern faded, drifting away somewhere to be called upon later and she found herself sitting down, taking deep gulping breaths.

“Hey, Marinette? Marinette? Marinette, can you hear me?”

Still wheezing, Marinette Dupain-Cheng turned her head to see her best friend sitting next to her, looking at her intently.“A-Ayla?”

“Okay, good. You know who I am.” For whatever reason, Ayla was acting like Marinette had just scared her to death, which made absolutely no sense. “Do you know who you are? Do you know _where_ you are?”

“I. . .” Marinette looked down at her hands, feeling sluggish and slowed, as though . . . her hands were bandaged. Why were her hands bandaged?

“Marinette?”

Marinette sighed. “My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I’m . . . what is _that_?” Having finally looked around, Marinette had realized that she and Ayla were sitting on the top step at the back of their classroom. All the desks save for one were gone, her teacher, her father, and principal Damocles were gathered at the front of the room and in the corner next to the window, some sort of clank in a cage held Chloe Bourgeois and her father, who was one of Paris’ mayors, in a tight grip while gently smacking them with pillows. Mayor Bourgeois looked resigned, Chloe was glaring at Marinette with undisguised hatred and fury. At the base of the cage, Adrien Argeste was doing something to what looked like the door. It was a testament to how bad Marinette was feeling that her crush on Adrien didn’t paralyze her. “Ayla .. .?” Marinette tried again and this time, her friend grinned.

“You, my friend, Sparked. Big time.”

“Sp-sp-sparked?” Marinette repeated in a squeaky voice. “M-me?” I . . .”

“So eloquent,” Ayla said to the ceiling. “Yes, you. You’re a Spark.” She eyed the machine. “And going by that, a good one. Better than me, but that’s fine. Just promise me second in command when you take over Paris and I’m all yours.”

Marinette gaped at her, open-mouthed. Ayla responded by taking her picture and the flash of the camera jolted Marinette’s brain into gear. She shook her head to clear it and then groaned as her brain seemed have burst into flame.

“Hey, you okay?” Ayla asked.

“Head hurts,” Marinette whimpered, “can I go home?”

“Yeah,” Alya stood and hauled Marinette to her feet.

“What happened, Alya?” Marinette asked as they began to make their way down the steps, “I don’t remember anything.”

“Later,” Alya promised. She raised her voice slightly. “Principal Damocles? She’s herself again. Can I take her home?”

Damocles looked relieved. “Yes, of course.”

“No!” Chloe screeched. “She assaulted me! My father will—“

“If you have the sense God gave a goldfish, child, you will be silent.” interruptednew voice. Standing in the doorway was a dark skinned woman dressed in the uniform of the Master’s service. She was very beautiful, and her eyes were hard like steel.

“How dare you?” Chloe’s voice carried so much outrage it was almost a physical presence. “Don’t you know who I am? Who my father is?”

“Your Father is in a great deal of trouble, Ms. Bourgeois.” The woman who now stepped through the door was at least six and a half feet tall, with hair that framed her face like a lion’s mane and dressed in furs and silk. 

“Master Voltaire,” Damocles breathed and bowed, as did everyone in the room. Only Chloe did not, caught between outrage and surprise.

Colette Voltaire, the Master of Paris, acknowledged the bows with a short nod - she was not fond of ceremony - and looked at the woman. “Report, Leeana.”

“I was caught up in the sixth ward and have only just arrived,” Leeana replied.

“Professor Ponpilot again?”

“Yes, Master. He has apparently moved on to giant muskrats. I have ordered him arrested and took the liberty of directing the Guard to dismantle his lab.”

“Very good,” Voltaire nodded and turned her attention to the clank, crossing the width of the room in three great strides. “You’re Agreste’s son.” It was not a question. “And a Spark.”

“Yes, Master,” Adrien replied. “I’ve been trying to get this open, but . . .”

Voltaire prodded at the lock with a thin tool. “Hm.” She seemed mildly impressed.

“Hey! Adrien! I got the . . .whoa.” Nino, Adrien’s best friend, stopped short in the doorway, eyes wide behind his glasses. In one hand, he was pulling a cart with a welding rig on it.

Voltaire turned a questioning eye towards Adrien.

“Last night’s _Adventures of the Silver Weasel,_” Adrien looked embarrassed. “I . . . I couldn’t think of anything else.”

“As it happens sometimes when one is dealing with Sparks,” Voltaire observed. She looked over at a tool chest that had been tipped over on its side, most of the tools scattered on the floor. “A dix series four screwdriver and a number five awl.” Leeana hurried forward and retrieved the requested items. “Now observe,” Voltaire directed, beckoning Adrien forward.

With a deftness that seemed almost inhuman, she inserted the tools into the lock and began to manipulate its insides. Everyone not a Spark looked away when she removed the outer plate; Spark creations often defied the laws of physics or even reality and only another Spark could work on them.

Marinette sank down onto the steps again, clutching her head. Her brain still felt like it was on fire and all she really wanted to do was go home. Vaguely, she was aware of Ayla staring at her worriedly, but all she could focus on was the pain and how tired she was.

Nino, perhaps glad to have a distraction, came over to them. “How is she?”

“If it’s anything like when I Sparked, she’s got the mother of all migraines,” Alya replied. “She needs to get home and into a dark room.”

“Might be a problem,” Nino replied, jerking his thumb towards the clank. “I dunno about Marinette’s dad but he and Adrien have identical expressions, and on Adrien that look means Spark.”

Leeana had followed Nino over. “A moment, could either of you tell me what happened?”

“Chloe happened,” Ayla said, disgusted. Nino nodded agreement

Leeana raised her eyebrows. “You’ll need to be more specific.”

“Long story,” Ayla waved her phone. “I got it on video.”

“That will do for now.” Leeana passed over a card. “Send me a copy.”

Ayla nodded and helped Marinette stand up again. “C’mon, let’s get you into a dark room.”

Behind them, the lock popped open.

“**Amazing!**” Adrien exclaimed, his voice laced with Spark harmonics. **“Show me more!**” All the non-Sparks in the room except for Nino twitched.

Ayla glanced at Nino, who shrugged. “Used to it.”

“You sure you’re not Minionized?” Ayla asked.

Nino shrugged again. “Nah, I’m like, the Moloch to his Agatha.”

Ayla rolled her eyes and then she and Nino both jumped as Voltaire was suddenly standing at Leeana’s shoulder.

“Report.”

Leeana straightened and gestured at Marinette. “A new Spark. Evidently, Ms Bourgeois was the catalyst. I have obtained video of the incident.”

“I see,” Voltaire said and studied Marinette carefully. “What’s your name, child?”

“Her name’s Marinette,” Alya answered. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“My daughter, Master,” Marinette’s father said, wringing his hands. “I’ll —“

“Silence.” Voltaire cut him off with a single word. “Leeana, see that Ms. Dupain-Cheng gets home, the classroom restored, and have the clank shipped to a storage facility.”

“What?” Chloe was red faced with indignation. “No! She has to be punished!” She grasped her father’s sleeve. “Daddy, DO something!”

“The only thing your father is going to do, Ms. Bourgeois, is to write a report explaining how he allowed himselfto get trapped in a cage,” Voltaire snapped. “And he’d better be _ver_y convincing. As for you, I suggest you keep your mouth shut.”

“You’d have better luck teaching pigs to fly,” Alya muttered and then her eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth as she realized what she’d said. Or rather, who she’d said it to.

“How dare you?” Chloe shouted. “How DARE you? You’re going to pay for this, Cesaire, you too, Cheng!”

“Chloe, honey, sweetie,” Mayor Bourgeois tried to calm her down. “Let’s just go home, okay?”

“No!” Chloe pushed her father away. “You’re dead, Cheng! You understand, you stupid little peasant, dead!”

“You will be **silent, girl,**” Voltaire snapped, her own voice filling up with Spark harmonics.

“Oh shut up!” Chloe snapped and then her eyes widened. Behind her, Mayor Bourgeois looked skyward and then, resigned, stepped away from his daughter.

“Red Fire . . .” Nino muttered, awed.

Voltaire smiled. “Captain?” One of the soldiers made a sharp gesture and two other soldiers seized Chloe by the arms.

“Master Voltaire,” Adrien ventured. “I-”

“Silence.” Voltaire clasped her hands behind her back. “Sergeant, escort Ms Bourgeois to the training barracks for the Guard. Perhaps ten years service will teach her some manners.”

“The Guard?! Ten years!“ Chloe gasped as the guards began to escort her out. “No! You can’t! Daddy!” She twisted around to look at her father, who only looked away, eyes closed. “Daddy! Daddy please!”

“I am the Master of Paris, Ms Bourgeois. The list of things I can’t do is very, very short.” The door slammed shut behind the soldiers, cutting off Chloe’s screams. Voltaire took a deep breath. “That one may be beyond even Captain Eassard’s capabilities,” she said to Leeana.

“He does enjoy a challenge,” Leeana replied.

Voltaire nodded. “I leave the rest to you, Leeana. Bourgeois, the Tower. Now.” She walked towards the door and then, “Oh, and Ms Cesaire, delete that video you just took.”

Alya grinned sheepishly.

Marinette passed out.

—————————————————

Gabriel Agreste was home and waiting when Adrien arrived. Somehow, this didn’t surprise him.

“There was an incident at school today.” The elder Agreste’s voice was level and controlled. Dimly, Adrien could remember that voice lifted in song and laughter, but now . . .

“Yes, Father,” Adrien replied. “One of my classmates had a Spark breakthrough. I am to return to class the day after tomorrow.” Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Repairs are needed.”

“I see. I trust you were not involved.”

Adrien hesitated, not wanting to lie. Gabriel did not have the Spark and Adrien had learned to confine his to the labs at school or the obligations that came from wearing the Master’s silver ring, but he wished he could talk about it. On the other hand, could anyone other than another Sparktruly understand how alive it had felt? The only greater joy in using your Spark was to use it in conjunction with another’s and Marinette’s had burned so, so brightly . . . “A little bit. Chloe was the cause of the breakthrough. I sought to intercede.” He’d tried, to stay away, God, he’d tried, but. . . so bright.

“Laudable, if foolish. First and foremost, you are an Agreste, and Spark or no, you are above such squabbles. Especially those of other Sparks. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Good.” With that, Gabriel turned and re-entered his office, his assistant Nathalie close behind.

Adrien headed to his room, stopping only to sneak into the kitchen for a wedge of Camembert cheese before entering his room where he dropped his school bag onto his desk then held up the wedge of cheese which quickly vanished as a black blur whipped out of his shirt and devoured it.

“I need to run,” Adrien said. “Transform! Black Cat!” Moments later, a black clad form was bounding across Paris’ rooftops.

Chat Noir was on the move.

——————————

Marinette woke in near complete darkness and for a moment, wondered if she’d gone blind before realizing that heavy black fabric covered all her windows. Her head still hurt, but it was a dull ache, the dizziness and nausea was gone and . . . _oh_, she needed the bathroom.

Sitting up, she reflexively glanced at her clock and saw a glass of water next to a pair of sunglasses and a note written in extremely bright glow in the dark ink.

“You may need these,” said the note. “We’re in the bakery if you need us.” It was her father’s handwriting. Underneath that was Alya’s handwriting. “Text when you wake. Love you.” With a smile, Marinette grabbed the glasses and made her way to the bathroom.

Back in her room, Marinette squeezed her eyes shut, turned on her lamp, removed the glasses, and gently opened one eye. When no sudden pain hit her, she opened the other one, blinking a few times. No, no pain. In fact, she felt almost . . . refreshed, like she’d slept in while on vacation.

Her stomach growled. Hungry, she was also hungry.

“Marinette!” A small red blur flew down from the bookshelf over her bed and nuzzled her face. “You’re all right!”

“Hello, Tikki,” Marinette replied, cupping her hands around Tikki’s body for a moment. “I’m . . .” she let her hands fall. “I . . . I’m a Spark.”

“But that’s wonderful!” Tikki exclaimed, alighting on her lap. “Think of all the good you can do! As Marinette, and as Ladybug!”

“But I don’t want to be one,” bemoaned Marinette. “What if I go Spark and try to take apart Mom, Dad, or Alya? What if I try to take apart _you_? Or the Miraculous? I’ll be all crazy and out of control!”

Tikki laughed. “Oh Marinette,” she said soothingly, “you’re not the first Spark to be Ladybug.” She leaned forward and patted Marinette’s hand, smiling just a little bit as she gazed into Marinette’s eyes. “Don’t worry, I know _exactly_ what to do.”

For the rest of her life, Marinette would never be more terrified that she was of Tikki in that moment.

——————————

Alya’s text came almost immediately after Marinette sent hers.

_Hey, glad you’re awake, sleepyhead!How do you feel?_

_Thanks._ Marinette texted back. _Hungry. I’m going downstairs to the kitchen._

_Oh yeah. I was like eating everything in sight when I Sparked. Mom swears I ate more in that month than I ever did in my life._

_lol._

_Hey, seriously though, You’re probably gonna be the same. Don’t be afraid to have the munchies. Lots of protein and carbs. I’ll ask my mom for what she made me when I Sparked._

_Thanks_. In the kitchen, Marinette found a plate of cold cuts, fruit and cheese in the fridge and attacked it viciously as she took it to the counter. Alya was oddly silent as Marinette ate and finally, her phone chimed. 

_Okay, look. Heads up here. The next few weeks are gonna be weird._

Marinette paused mid chew. _Weird?_

_Yeah. Like, its not universal, but you’re . . . its gonna be weird._

_Ayla!_

_lol. Okay, so one, puberty in overdrive. You’re gonna get taller, stronger, less sleep, more energy kind of thing. On the other hand, you might be able to look Adrien in the eye. ;-D. Might also cure your clumsiness._

_AYLA!_

_lol. Next, better eyesight and hearing and all the senses. Turn that up to 12. You’ll learn to block it out, channel it, whatever._

_Okay._

_And then the Spark. Like, trying to not use it is like trying to not breathe. So when the city comes to your house and asks you to pick a ring, you want the silver.Trust me on this. Take the silver, not the gold and definitely not the bronze. That’s very important. DO NOT TAKE THE BRONZE._

_But why?_

_I don’t want to even think about it. Gives me nightmares. Just trust me on this._

_Okay . . . ?_

_It’ll make sense afterwards., Gotta go, Mom wants my help._

_Okay, bye._

_Bye. <3_

Marinette stared at her phone as she finished the cold cuts. She really didn’t like how evasive Ayla was being about this bronze ring thing. Okay, granted, Marinette had been just as evasive or morewhen it came to Ladybug, but that was different.

Yes, it was different. On a completely different level different. Ladybug was life and death for the entire city, maybe even the whole world, and this was just a ring, so what was so special about it?

Surging to her feet, Marinette went back upstairs, cookies in hand. Her father was a Spark and he had a silver ring, but he would lie if he thought it would spare her.

Her partner, on the other hand . . .

——————————

Colette Voltaire entered her private quarters, and stopped. “It seems to me that we agreed you would call first,” she said, closing the door behind her.

“You did agree that I would do that,” replied the man sitting in the armchair. He was short in stature, with neatly trimmed hair and beard, and dressed in simple blue pants and a flowered shirt in the brightest possible shade of red. “I took the liberty of making tea, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Had I invited you, Fu, I would not.” Collette took a seat in the other armchair and took the other cup on the table.

Fu simply smiled. “Do you ever invite anyone?”

Colette did not, as these were her private quarters. “Get to the point, Fu. Unless you can tell me why your two little henchmen were running around the city today. two hours apart, I might add, with not an akuma in sight.”

Fu didn’t bat an eye. “I cannot.”

“Your point, then.”

“Do you intend to make Marinette Dupain-Cheng wear the gold ring?”

Ah. She should have expected this. “I intend to offer her the choice, as I would any Spark.”

Fu’s eyes narrowed. “Ladybug is not your—“

“Ladybug, no. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, yes.” Collette held up her hand when Fu opened his mouth to speak further. “Every Spark who is a citizen of Paris - or chooses to become one - is given the choice of gold, silver, or bronze. Every one of those Sparks _has_ to make that choice. I can not, will not make Dupain-Cheng an exception. Doing so would draw even more attention to her, something you were very insistent about not happening.”

“And what if she is in one of your labs and an akuma attacks?”

“Agreste wears a silver ring and seems to be doing just fine. But if you’re that worried, you could just —“

“No, Colette. I told you this after the Second Long War and I will say it again; having a Miraculous requires qualities that go beyond the physical and mental. Marinette and Adrien _are_ the Ladybug and Black Cat in ways that are beyond even a Guardian’s understanding. They are made for each other, a synergy that reflects the balance of their Miraculous, and in that, Creation and Destruction.” Fu sipped his tea and smiled slyly. “Besides, children have a unique perspective that lets them see solutions where us older types might not. Unless of course your agents and machines have found Hawkmoth already?”

Collette’s teeth clenched together tightly enough to crush a diamond and she stood up, walking away from the chair while she tried to tamp down her temper. The black butterflies, and the white ones, for that matter, didn’t show up on camera except in large groups, which forced her to rely on eyewitness accounts to try and find their point of origin. But even then, they often escaped notice. Even more infuriating was Hawkmoth. She was plugged into Paris itself. In a way, she _was_ Paris. Nothing escaped her notice.She knew of every conspiracy, every scheme, every backroom deal that happened in the city, but somehow, she still could not find Hawkmoth and that rankled.

“Thank you for the tea, Colette.”

Collette spun around, but Fu was gone and his empty teacup was on the table.

“**When this is over, I _will_ kill him**,” Collette growled.

———————————————

Ladybug’s face was an irritated scowl as she bounded over the rooftops towards home.

According to a few people, Chat Noir had been spotted around the city a few hours ago, and while he’d waved if someone called out, he hadn’t stopped to so much as say hello. That was . . . totally unlike him, Chat was the biggest extrovert she’d ever met.

Sighing, she put Chat out of her mind and began to dodge and weave from one building to the next, before she cleared the last chimney, and with a flip, she pointed her toes straight down and let gravity pull her down, right through her skylight.

“Tikki, Spots off!” She called out as passed through, and she hit the bed on her knees as Marinette.“Argh!” She grumbled as she pulled out a cookie and offered it to Tikki. “We didn’t find anything!”

“We’ll try again tomorrow,” Tikki assured her.

From down below came a gasp of breath and Marinette peered over the edge of the loft to see Alya sitting on her chaise, staring up at them.

Marinette’s eyes widened, a grimace on her face. Alya had seen. There was absolutely no way around it. She was screwed. So screwed.

She tried to deny it anyway.

“So you like my costume? I had a spark moment and yeah.”

“I knew it!” Alya exclaimed, her phone sliding from her grip to clatter on the ground.

“No no, costume! That I made. Because Spark.”

“It all makes sense now.” Alya stood up and made for the stairs that led up to the loft like a cat stalking a mouse, her eyes never leaving Marinette’s. “You’re never around when there’s an Akuma. You’r**e always tired. Grades slipping. The lies. Dragging me to look at that scroll. _The freakin exclusive interview!_**” Marinette scooted backwards on the bed. “**It’s you, Always you.**” Unable to back up any more as she hit the headboard Marinette could only cringe as Alya advanced until they were nose to nose. “**It all makes sense. Everything makes sense now. It’s you. Right there under my nose. Lying to me. _Laughing_ at me. **”

“Alya, I . . .”

“**Yes, _Ladybug_?**”

Okay, she couldn’t explain at all.

_Merde_.

————————

Author’s Notes:

Following the Second Long War, which saw the final defeat of the Spark known as The Other, Voltaire reorganized, dividing Paris into seven districts, each one run by a mayor, and in Council, they would handle the day to day business of keeping Paris going with little or no input from Voltaire herself. However, while Voltaire doesn’t participate in her government, she is still the Master of Paris and those who forget this tend to find themselves . . . inconvenienced.

One of the side effects of Spark harmonics and indeed, the Spark itself, was that those without the Spark often want to follow and serve those who did. For most, this is simply seen as a powerful, compelling sense of charisma, naturally drawing people into a Spark’s orbit.

However, for some, the effect goes further, creating a fanatical devotion to a particular Spark and by extension, their bloodline. This effect is known as “Minionization” and deliberately doing this, even once, is considered a capital crime under the _Pax Europa_, and in Paris in particular.

Moloch Von Zinzer, who served as Agatha Heterodyne’s Chief Minion (he famously and vehemently denied being a minion at all) was known for his stubbornness, his skill at all things mechanical and at one point, engaging British Agent Trelawney Thorpe in a wrench to wrench fight described by witnesses as “Swashbuckle worthy”. After his death, a statue in his memory was placed at the gates of Castle Heterodyne while Von Zinzer himself was interred in the Heterodyne family crypt, a rare and almost unheard of honor.

It should be mentioned that Dr Andrew Dalton of Cambridge did in fact teach a pig to fly. However, he neglected to instruct it in aerial navigation and emergency procedures. The crash was, according to all reports, quite spectacular, and smelled delicious.


End file.
